


That Week in March

by NelindeA



Series: Fragments [9]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Gen, I dont actually know if this qualifies as fluff, Little bit of angst...I think?, That week in march, This is the heavy one people, and panic attacks, platonic phan, references to suicide and depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 02:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17779088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NelindeA/pseuds/NelindeA
Summary: The fleshed out version of what Dan didn't tell us what happened during "that week in March."





	That Week in March

**Author's Note:**

> I IN NO WAY AM SUGGESTING THAT THIS IS WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. We saw vlogs and liveshows of Dan during that time, so clearly he was fine. But the idea of what he and Phil might have gone through was too beautiful to not turn into an angsty messy sad-but-happy story. 
> 
> Platonic Phan, as usuals.

The first day wasn’t too terrible. Well, aside from the moment that I reached into my bedside table to pull my medication out, only to realize there was nothing there.

I wasn’t even sure in that moment if I should panic or not. So I just stood there staring at it until Phil poked his head in my doorway. “Dan, are you coming or not?” he asked. “We’ve got gaming videos to film!” 

“I ran out of meds,” I said in a monotone voice, still not sure if this was really that big of a deal or not.

“What?” Phil came in and looked in my drawer with me. “That’s not possible. You said you had one more week, right?” 

“I thought I did.” I shrugged. “Oh well, I’ll just call them up and get it renewed.”

“You do that,” Phil said. “Do it now. Right now.”

“What happened to the gaming videos we need to film?” I asked it teasingly, because I was already reaching for my phone. 

“Oh, we’re still doing them,” Phil said. “Come get me when you’re done, okay?”

“Yep.” I imagined it would be a quick process, and they’d tell me that I could pick up my prescription in the morning and today was the only day I’d miss.

That is not what they told me.

“Another two weeks?” I asked incredulously. “Why, I mean you know what the prescription is, right?” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Howell, but the paperwork has to all go through again if you forget to renew before you run out. Essentially, the system thinks you don’t need them anymore if that happens, so it takes you off the list.”

I could have said all kinds of things about their “system” but I’m not one of those people who intentionally makes other people’s jobs harder.

“We’ll try to expedite it,” the woman said encouragingly. “So hopefully it’ll be a little less than two weeks.”

“Okay.” What else could I say?

She cleared her throat. “Now, here’s the thing. Since the medication is intended to keep the mind stable, and not the body, technically you’re going to be fine without them.”

“Well that’s good news.”

“But…” and here she hesitated, as if wondering how to nicely put what she was going to say next. “But you will likely suffer some…side effects.”

“Yeah, withdrawals, right? That makes sense.”

“Withdrawals, exactly.” She hesitated again. “The thing is, the severity of these withdrawals is different for everybody, so I can’t tell you exactly what you’re going to experience. My only suggestion is to cancel any stressful plans you have for the next two weeks, and make sure someone is with you at all times.”

“Why?” I asked warily. “What’s on the list of possible side effects?”

“I told you, it differs for everyone,” she said. “And maybe in your case it won’t be that severe. But it is common to experience a lot of feeling dizzy and sick, and since it is supposed to be keeping your mental health in check…”

“Oh.” I suddenly got what she was alluding to. “So, keep someone with me at all times, got it.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Have a nice day, Mr. Howell.”

She said it kind of sadly, like she knew I wouldn’t. But right now I was still feeling fine, so I walked into the office, where Phil was sitting, and told him what she’d told me.  
I was only dreading the thought of feeling sick and dizzy for the next two weeks, but he went into full-on panic mode. “Two weeks? Dan, that’s bad, that’s so, so bad!”  
“No it isn’t,” I said. “I mean, it’ll likely be hell for me, but I’ll get through it.” 

“No,” he said. “No no, that’s super dangerous to just suddenly stop taking them like that. Dan.” He looked at me desperately. “I’m not gonna leave your side until you start taking them again, so I’m just warning you of that.” 

“Fine, but I’m telling you you’re overreacting.”

“I’ve seen this before, Dan,” he said in a low voice.

I looked at him sharply. He never alluded to that, ever. But all it did was make me determined to be fine, so I sat down in the chair next to him. “Well, we’d better pump out a whole lot of content then, if I’m going to be dying,” I said.   
…  
The second day was a little bit worse. I had a headache that increased throughout the day, and my vision would get blurry on occasion. I tried editing the gaming videos with Phil, but I only managed to make it through one by the time he’d finished all the rest. He told me I’d kept zoning out, but I really didn’t remember that happening. But since I was showing no other red flags, he didn’t actually keep his word of staying by my side that day. And when I said I was going to film an Internet Support Group for my channel, he just shrugged and said, “Go for it, you don’t need my permission.”

I think I zoned out a bit for that one too, but in a different way, because when I was watching the footage back I heard myself say a lot of things that I definitely didn’t remember saying. Okay, so, mental note to self, I’m having tiny lapses of memory. I can deal with that. 

Except for the fact that my mental faculties are faulty at the moment, and also I’m having tiny lapses of memory.   
…  
The third day was when I started feeling actually ill. It started in the middle of the night, when I couldn’t get to sleep thanks to my headache which had now turned into a migraine. I may have neglected to tell Phil about that because I didn’t want him to worry, but when I stumbled to the bathroom and threw up, I knew that there was no preventing that now.   
I was leaning over the toilet for a while, but at some point I was dimly aware that he was standing there. I only barely raised my eyes towards him to make sure, and then I sighed and closed them. “Don’t look at me,” I groaned. 

He was standing with crossed arms and a blank face. “You didn’t tell me you were feeling queasy.”

“I wasn’t,” I said. “Until just now. Anyway, that’s not something you just go around telling people.”

“But it is something that you need to tell me, Dan.”

I knew that, and I also knew that I probably wouldn’t have told him even if I’d been feeling that way earlier. But he was right, and if I couldn’t take care of myself at some point in the next week, I had to at least communicate what was happening with me. I knew all that. I’m a very sensible person.

But the thought of him having to look after me was more than my hubris could take, so I just nodded and continued gripping the sides of the toilet.

I did manage to sleep through the rest of the night, and when morning came I tried to stay asleep as long as I could, because every time I became too conscious my stomach remembered that it was sick, and I suddenly had to race to the toilet again. After the third time of this, Phil came into my room, watching me burrow under the covers again and praying for sleep to come. 

He held out a packet of crisps to me and I raised my eyes to him. “Seriously?” I croaked. “You think I want to eat anything right now?”

“You have to. Being sick is using up all your energy.”

“But it’s just going to come back up again.”

“Well better that than your internal organs, wouldn’t you agree?”

I did, so I reluctantly ate some, and as I predicted, I just threw it up again. But I was actually able to sleep for a good long while after that, so maybe Phil really knew what he was doing. Somehow.  
…  
The fourth day was not a day that I ever want to repeat. Because that was a day where we had to have a meeting with YouTube, and even though Phil had suggested cancelling, I could tell he wasn’t really excited about the idea of that. You don’t just cancel a meeting with YouTube, especially when you’re only vaguely sure of why they want you there.   
I was sick a little bit in the morning, but once it had reached the afternoon and I’d stopped feeling like I was going to throw up anymore, Phil agreed that we didn’t necessarily have to cancel. But I was feeling dizzy, I was feeling incredibly dizzy, like my brain was detached from my body and was just floating above, observing me, watching what I would do. I didn’t even think to convey this to Phil, but I’m pretty sure he could tell, because he spoke very softly to me and held my arm the entire way there. 

We arrived to see that Louise and Jack and Dean and Jim Chapman had also been summoned, and that it was just a standard little check-up to inform us of new policies and letting us get a peek at some of the new changes, and see what our opinion was. Pretty routine, and we’d done this kind of thing before, but it was a new kind of effort to have to focus all my energy into smiling and talking to my friends as if nothing was wrong. It was bad enough to have Phil worry about me. I wasn’t going to have them fussing, too. 

And fortunately, Phil seemed to think the same thing, because he was laughing with the rest of us and teasing me as usual, even though he remained glued to my side like he was afraid I might fall or something. The whole thing was kind of foggy to me, but I seem to remember doing well, until the meeting was over and everyone left. 

At least, I assume they left. I didn’t really witness that part, because my brain was trying to figure out a word that someone nearby was saying, a word that sounded familiar, and like I should know what it was, but I couldn’t really define it in my head. 

“Dan. Dan!” Why did that voice sound familiar? 

“DAN!” A clap in front of my face, and I suddenly focused on Phil’s. Phil. He’d been saying my name. How could I have forgotten my own—

“Dan.” His voice was gentler now. “I need you to focus for me, okay? Can you do that?” 

I nodded slowly, mechanically, and he nodded as well. “Okay, we’re gonna breathe in now, are you ready? In…and out. In…and out.” 

It was actually helpful, and after that I was able to listen to what else he was saying. “We just need to sign something saying we were here,” Phil said. “You think you can do that?” 

“Yes.” My voice was steadier than I’d expected, and I stood up and walked over to the table where the woman smiled at us. I smiled at her, and I think I made a joke of some sort, because she was giggling at me as Phil steered me away.

“Always a pleasure to see you two!” she called after us.   
…  
On the fifth day I was sick again in the morning, but my brain was clearer now, and I was able to joke to Phil that I must be pregnant, seeing as how this morning sickness thing was becoming a pattern. He laughed, and looked at me with actual merry eyes, instead of the anxious ones I’d started to get used to.

“How are you feeling otherwise?” he asked. 

“Well I don’t think I’m going to throw up again.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “You did really well yesterday. You wouldn’t have been able to tell that you weren’t feeling good.”

“Yeah, other than when I spaced out.” 

“Yeah, that was scary,” he said quickly. “You didn’t respond when I called your name.” 

The anxious eyes were starting to return, and I immediately tried to chase them away again. “Well that’s nothing new, is it?” I asked. “When do I ever listen to you?”

My heart was warmed by his laugh, and I asked, “So, we’re still going to PJ’s for dinner on Saturday, right?” 

Phil looked at me cautiously. “That’s something much easier to cancel.”

“Oh please, it’s a miracle that it ever got scheduled. It won’t happen again, so, yeah, you’d better let me go.”

“We’ll see,” Phil said. 

I still felt dizzy that day, but at least I could focus on playing video games without zoning out. That become too much of an effort at some point, though, so I just sat on the sofa with Phil, floating in and out of consciousness as he watched some nature documentary.   
…  
The sixth day I’d say was definitely the worst. Because that was the day a depressive episode hit, and so now I had that on top of a body that was already freaking out. 

I could tell it was a normal bad day and not something brought on by the withdrawals, but that didn’t help control my irrational thoughts at all. The first thing I did after waking up was feeling immediately like I couldn’t go back to sleep. I could only barely glance at my phone to see that it was 8 in the morning, which is a time that I never wake up, not ever.   
But I only laid there for five minutes before I felt like I was being eaten alive by my thoughts, and so I hastened out of bed as quickly as I could, only to feel the entire room spinning, and then there I was on the floor. 

And I just started crying. I couldn’t help it, and I didn’t even try. There were demons everywhere. They were staring at me in every corner of my room, twenty at least, not coming at me yet, but letting me know with their looks that they could, and they would, as soon as they felt so inclined to. 

And so many thoughts rattling in my brain. No, not just rattling. Having full on seizures, and jumping and bouncing and clashing with each other and shattering, and then rebuilding themselves using the broken pieces of other thoughts to become these kinds of strange mutant thoughts. I was in a swirling pit, and I was never coming out. I might as well just lay down and die right now. Just let my soul sleep, let the demons devour me and then I wouldn’t have to inconvenience anyone or feel pain ever again…

And that’s when the door opened, not that I cared enough to wonder or check to see who it was. 

But I felt two thin, but strong arms wrap around my shaking frame, and whoever it was just felt so calm, and so powerful, that I didn’t feel at all afraid to let myself fall back into his arms and clutch his shirt as tightly as I could.

I don’t know when I realized it was Phil, because when the realization happened I knew that I’d known it was him all along. Of course it was Phil. Who else would it have been? Phil was always there for me, and he always knew exactly when to come and what I needed. That wasn’t just my emotional, sick brain talking, either, because the rational side of me awoke just long enough to remind me that he’d had that ability ever since I’d first met him. Could he do that with everybody? Or was it just me that he’d learned to be a guardian angel for? 

Phil didn’t say anything, or try to calm me down, but I could feel his fingers dancing up and down my spine, and eventually I focused so much on that that I forgot to cry. I started breathing deeply, and it made me feel so calm and safe that I then put all my focus into doing that. 

“Come eat something,” Phil murmured. 

“Okay,” I murmured back into his shirt. 

The demons were still in the corners of my room as Phil helped me stand up and led me out of the room, but they backed away in fear when he marched past them, and they didn’t try to follow me out, either. 

I assumed that I must have been eating in the past several days, but I was so hungry now that the cereal and toast Phil put in front of me was the most delicious food I thought I’d ever eaten. He wouldn’t let me eat too much, which I was very sorry for, but I didn’t question him.

“What do you feel like doing now?” he asked gently. 

In a way I felt like climbing a mountain. I didn’t know if I felt so energetic because I’d spent the past couple of days huddled on the sofa, but right now I felt like I could do anything. 

Almost. My depressed thoughts were starting to drag me down again, and I was desperate not to let that happen.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. I stood up and immediately crashed to the ground again, just like I had while trying to get out of bed. 

Phil was there in an instant, helping me stand up and leading me over to the couch. “You okay?” he asked, studying my face. 

I sighed. “Why did I run out of those stupid pills, Phil? How could I have been so idiotic?”

“Yeah, well.” Phil tried to smile. “The bright side is that you’ll be extremely careful not to let it happen again.” 

“But I had to go and let it happen once. I don’t think I can make it, Phil.”

“Hey, hey.” Phil reached up to wipe the single tear that had dared fall from my eye. “Yes, you can. Of course you can. And if you ever forget it, come wake me up in the middle of the night and ask me to remind you.”

It was meant to be encouraging, and in a way it was, but now all I could think about was how abnormal of a time it was to for him to be up, too. 

“I woke you up,” I said flatly. 

“I’m glad you did,” he said firmly. “Well, I mean I’m glad I could hear you fall.”

“No you’re not,” I said bitterly. “Don’t lie to me, Phil Lester, there’s nothing good about you having to suffer alongside me. You should be able to sleep as long as you want to. You should be able to have breakfast when you want, and make a gaming video when you want, and not have to constantly think about what I need or what I’m doing.”

“Since when am I the only one who’s wants matter around here?”

I turned away from him. “All I’m saying is that you’re making me feel worse by being so overprotective of me.”

I looked back slightly to see him blink. “I’m making you feel worse?”

“Well, you’re making me feel guilty, anyway. Guilty because now you’re paying for my mistake, and you’re paying for it way more than I am.”

“That is not true.”

“Don’t tell me it isn’t!” I cried. “You don’t know, you can’t have any idea how miserable and wrong I feel right now!” 

“I know that—”

“Then don’t tell me what isn’t true. You couldn’t possibly know the feeling of wanting to die because you hurt so much, you can’t know what it is to be so broken…”  
He reached forward to touch me, but I was too mad at him for that. “Go away!” I snapped.

Did I mean that? I’m not quite sure. Part of me felt again like my brain was just observing. It knew what I was saying was wrong, and not me, but it was making no effort to stop it, to calm down, to think about how hurtful I was being. 

Not until I saw the sadness in Phil’s eyes. He knew, I’m sure he knew, that this was the delirium talking and nothing more, but I could feel no remorse until he said, “All right,” and stood up and began to leave. 

“No,” I said quickly, sitting up straight. “No, come back Phil, I need you, I need…” I stood up, but again began to collapse. 

But this time he was ready, and caught me and sat me back down before joining me again. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that was stupid, and that was wrong, and I didn’t mean it…”

“It’s okay, Dan,” he sighed. “I know you didn’t, I know you’re sick and you wouldn’t normally say that to me.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” I mumbled, burying my face in my hands. “I’m such an idiot…”

“You’re not, Dan, you’re sick and broken and miserable, like you said. And I can’t know what you feel, I can’t imagine how awful all of this must be for you, even when you have your medication. Because the fact that you even need it…” He stopped, and then slowly began speaking again. “I feel guilty sometimes too, you know. For daring to be so happy and healthy when you’re feeling like this all the time. That’s why I like taking care of you, and waking up at odd hours for you, and listening to you spill out all your thoughts so that I can understand you a little better. It makes me feel like I’m doing something to help you.”

I like to think that I only started crying because of how messed up my brain was that day, but let’s be real, I would have started crying then on any other day of the year. And so I did, quite heartily, and he again just calmly held me against his shoulder until I’d calmed down. Well, calmed down enough so that I wasn’t crying anymore. My fingers were running up and down my leg as if it was a piano and I was playing Beethoven’s freaking “Moonlight Sonata.” Eventually Phil put his hand over mine to stop it. 

“What’s wrong now?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t be still, I want to go out, I want to move around and…”

“You’ve only slept for five hours,” he pointed out. “You should go back to bed, Dan, you really should.”

I thought of the demons in my room and began to shake my head wildly. “No, I want to stay here.” 

“Will you be able to sleep out here?”

I thought about it and sighed. “Probably not.”

I wondered what he’d do next. Would he drag me back to my bedroom? Or would he just leave me on the sofa to fend for myself?

He did neither. In fact, he didn’t do anything at all. He just kept his hand on top of my fingers to keep them still, and let me stay there with my head digging into his shoulder like my life depended on it. And I just stared straight forward, thinking my depressing thoughts, but slowly feeling them drain away as sleepiness started to replace them. 

Phil was a witch, he really was. I have no idea how he did it. 

Or how he knew when exactly was the right moment to lift his hand off mine and begin stroking my hair with the lightest of touches. It was so light that I barely felt it, but maybe that’s because I was drifting off, and drifting off quickly. When hand brushed my cheek my eyes dropped shut, and I could feel my head slipping. 

And then softly, so smoothly that I was barely aware it was even happening, Phil began pulling me down. I readjusted myself obligingly, and once my head was in his lap I knew there was no way I was going to stay awake after that. And so I let myself float away, but making sure that I could still feel Phil’s hand gently playing with my hair, so that I could have a way to return.   
…  
The seventh day was definitely an improvement over the sixth. Phil said nothing about the previous day, but I remembered what I’d said, and tried to apologize for it. He brushed me off, saying I’d already done that.

“Yeah, but I actually want to say it and mean it,” I said.

“Oh, I know you meant it,” he said. “And I know you didn’t mean the hurtful things. I can tell the difference between sincerity and delirious raving, Daniel.”

And so that was that, but I’m fairly confident that I didn’t say anything else rude to him for the duration of that week. And I know I’ve never said anything like that to him since. 

The seventh day was also an improvement because I slept for most of it, again on the sofa, even though the demons had left my bedroom. But being dressed and sitting on the sofa made me feel more productive, even if all I was doing was sitting with Phil watching his nature documentaries, and sleeping for more hours of the day than not.   
…  
The eighth day was Saturday, and honestly, I was so ready to be done with this illness. I threw up in the morning, and I felt a bit of lightheadedness, but other than that I could actually be productive and do laundry and make my own breakfast for once, so Phil said we wouldn’t have to cancel going to PJ’s. So ironic that the one time I had a valid reason for getting out of a social situation, I actually didn’t want to. 

And then I got a call saying my medication had come in, and I could go get it. That was very exciting news, and Phil was visibly relieved when I told him. So I got them, and I took them, and I felt so much better that going to PJ’s was actually an enjoyable experience for me, which I hadn’t at all expected despite my insistence that we go to it.   
…  
The ninth day was very confusing for me, then, when I got up feeling so queasy and lightheaded that I wondered if I’d dreamed the past two days and I was back at the beginning of the week. 

Phil didn’t seem surprised, though. “Yeah, it’s gotta be a shock to your system when you abstain from drugs for a week and then suddenly start taking them again,” he said. 

“Are you serious?” I asked. “I have to go through all this again?”

Phil laughed, and already that was a good sign, because it meant that he assumed the worst was over. “I’m not a doctor, why are you asking me?” he said. 

I got through the day all right, because I’d now kind of learned how to function while feeling this disgusting, but the creeping, sickening feelings of dread and despair began to return that night, while I was lying in bed. 

The problem was, I told myself, that I was now healthy enough to be back on my regular sleep schedule, meaning I wasn’t ready to sleep at 10 because my body wanted to stay up until 3. But also that I was still suffering enough withdrawals to have thoughts, thoughts that I never had, and hope never to have again. That was the whole point of me taking these drugs, so why were they having the opposite effect?

I told myself not to go get Phil, I told myself a hundred times not to. But these thoughts were new and were quite frankly freaking me out. But weren’t these thoughts supposed to come while I didn’t have the medication fixing me? Why was I suddenly having them now that I was back on my medicine? 

They got louder and louder, and scarier and scarier, and it got to the point where I didn’t really have room to care whether Phil was asleep or not and whether he’d be annoyed by me going to get him. I just needed him, and I needed him now. 

Once I’d decided this, I didn’t hesitate about leaving my room, and pattering down to his. My original plan had been just to barge in, but now I was feeling hesitant. So I just stood outside his door for several minutes until I finally asked, “Phil?”

I heard him mumble something from the other side. 

“Can I come in?” I asked, though I wasn’t really sure why. I’d barged into his room plenty of times before. 

“Dan?” he asked. “What are you doing?” 

I took that as invitation enough, so I turned the handle and marched in. 

“Dan?” Phil repeated, sitting up and turning his light on. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said. And suddenly, nothing was. Those thoughts I had seemed silly and minor now, and I probably could have gone away right then and been fine. But I really didn’t want to risk that.

“Nothing?” Phil asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” I confirmed, getting under his covers. “I’m staying here tonight, though.”

“Way to ask my permission.”

“Good night, Phil,” I said. 

“Fine,” he sighed, turning off his light again. “But this is a one-time thing, do you hear me?”

I don’t know why he felt the need to say that. I was prone to coming to him in the middle of the night when I was freaking out, but I didn’t do it on a regular basis. That was an invasion of personal space that neither of us were very fond of. 

But he knew I’d do it again. The very next time I needed to.   
…  
The tenth day was the day I knew it was all over. I had a bit of a headache when I woke up, but it quickly passed, and I was able to edit my video in the usual amount of time. Phil didn’t ask why I’d come to him in the middle of the night, but then he never did. He knew I’d tell him if I wanted to, and that sometimes I didn’t tell him because I wasn’t even sure why or when I suddenly needed him near me. 

But this time I did know, and it took me a while to say it, but finally, when both of us were just sitting on our laptops, I blurted out, “I’m not suicidal, you know.”

Phil looked up. “I know that,” he said in a confused voice. “You haven’t been, not as long as you’ve known me.”

I noticed he didn’t say as long as he knew me. “Well, I’m not,” I said. “I’m not, so it was just the withdrawals that were making me have…those thoughts last night, right?”

Phil’s anxious eyes came back, which instantly made my heart sink. I thought we’d be done with those. 

“What were you thinking?” he asked.

Why did I tell him? Oh, why did I tell him? How could I make him understand that I never would have done it, and that I had neither summoned nor entertained those thoughts?  
“I was just feeling bad, is all,” I said. 

“Dan.” His voice was serious. “Do I need to worry about this?”

He was asking me so innocently. And the thing is, I knew what his reaction would be if I told him no.

“No,” I said. 

He looked at me for a long time, and then nodded. “Okay.”

Believing me. That was his reaction. Just trusting me. And I knew he would. I don’t know if he understood, and I wasn’t sure that he’d secretly call my therapist and tell him to ask me about it. But he wasn’t going to press me further, and I loved him for that. 

I went and sat next to him, nudging his elbow. “Really,” I said. “You don’t. They were scaring me so much that I needed you to…I mean I just had to come…”

Phil’s anxious eyes turned into elated ones. “You came to me?” he asked. “Did I help banish them?”

"Of course you did, you spoon,” I said, rolling my eyes and shoving his arm. I suddenly realized that that was the most me I’d been in the past ten days, and the look in Phil’s eyes said that he realized the same thing. “You’re so wholesome that those kinds of thoughts just can’t be in the same room as you.”

Phil was all smiles as he looked back down at his laptop. “I’m glad,” he said quietly.

It took several attempts, but I managed to swallow my pride and cynicism and say what obviously had to come next. “Thanks for taking care of me,” I said.

“You’re welcs, mate.” 

“I don’t just mean in this last week,” I said. “I mean…always.”

He looked up at me and gave such a pure smile that I kind of wanted to punch him and hug him at the same time. But he saved it by turning it into a smirk. “I knew that’s what you meant.”

“Shut up,” I said, gagging and shoving his shoulder again. “Come on, let’s go play Mario Kart. I hope you’ve enjoyed your week of beating me, because I’m about to get my revenge, Lester.”

He grinned and jumped up. “Oh you’re so on, Howell.”


End file.
